


be the hound, begin the chase

by Thornofthelily



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi cuckolds himself, Alternate Universe - Alternate Timeline, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Black Mask shows up early, Cheating, Cuckolding, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, First Time, Gunplay, Improper Use of Relax Gel, Kinda, M/M, Oral Sex, Ren learns he's a masochist in real time, Ren thinks he is anyway, Ren/Goro, Semi-Public Sex, Top!Goro, Turned Enthusiastic Consent, bottom!ren, brief suicide mention, dick stepping, dom!Goro, shame/humiliation, sub!Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26562706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thornofthelily/pseuds/Thornofthelily
Summary: Ren's life is going fine. He has a boyfriend. He has his friends. They've been successfully operating as Phantom Thieves for months, if you don't count the black-masked stalker that's been hounding them in the Metaverse. And yet, Ren is pent-up. Frustrated. Bored. So he goes into Mementos alone, and finds the outlet he didn't realize he needed.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 29
Kudos: 386





	1. Chapter 1

By their third or so visit to Mementos, they knew they were not alone. The Phantom Thieves were barely past the first resting area when Morgana felt something, an incredibly strong presence somewhere below. Ryuji suspected some kind of crazy strong Shadow, like the one they’d heard rattling chains when they spent too long on a floor, but Morgana said it felt human. Not the Shadow of a person, either, but someone else with a Persona. The Phantom Thieves tried to chase down the presence, but it could delve further than them, and soon they were exhausted and facing too-strong enemies they couldn’t take down. They had to call it quits. From that moment, the game was on.

They’d sense the other Persona-user in Mementos from time to time, but they always alluded the Thieves. They seemed to have something like their own MetaNav; one minute, they would be seconds from catching up to the presence, then Morgana would sense the presence floors above them, possibly using the Nav to teleport back to the entrance. The fact they avoided them with such precision suggested they had a power like Morgana, although maybe even more refined than that.

After Yusuke joined the group, they got a little closer to that strange presence. In the middle of infiltrating Madarame’s Palace, Morgana felt the presence again, the first time he sensed it in a Palace. This time, they were better prepared, knowing the strengths of the Shadows and the immutable layout of the Palace. They actually saw a glimpse of him then; a black mask fully encasing his head, obscuring his face, a cloak of darkness around him. Glowing red eyes. Joker and the others chased him into the upper levels of Madarame’s distortion, but when they arrived at the living M.C. Escher floor, they lost him again, running up an inverted staircase and disappearing into a glowing doorway. When the artist’s Shadow spoke of a person using the Metaverse for their own gain, they knew: It was Black Mask.

Ren didn’t know who came up with the name. Ryuji just started going off about “that asshole in the mask” and Ann noted how “he is dressed like a sentai villain in that black getup,” but after that day, they kept calling him by that name. Black Mask.

After the change of Madarame’s heart, the Thieves commiserated about him at the diner in Shibuya. Who was he? What were his goals? Did he target Madarame by coincidence, or was he following the Phantom Thieves? Did he work alone? What were his abilities? Judging by the power Morgana sensed, the outfit, his ease at navigating, they knew he had a Persona, and evidently a strong one. They decided to beextra careful discussing Thief business in the real world. (Although Ryuji never quite caught on.) Using code names suddenly became a matter of life and death; they had no idea when Black Mask might be listening. And if he knew enough to follow them into Madarame’s Palace, he could track them down in the real world, too.

The second time they saw him was Kaneshiro’s Palace. He followed at a distance, now more aware of the Phantom Thieves’s movements. About halfway through their infiltration, they sensed Black Mask enter the Palace shortly after them, as though he knew. He slipped on and off Morgana’s radar with more skill than before, upsetting the “cat” since he couldn’t reliably track him. Queen became increasingly agitated that they had a stalker for basically their whole brief careers as Phantom Thieves, annoyed they had “allowed” him to harass them. She wanted to spring a trap for him, but they could never lure him in close enough. Hell, they almost never saw him, could only sense his presence lurking just at the fringes.

Outside the Metaverse, Ren met someone. A cute guy with a great smile, whose voice warmed him down to his toes, even when he said shit that pissed him off. He actually kind of liked that about him. He seemed like your standard suck-up, establishment kiss-ass at first, a pretty face but garbage underneath, but when they argued on live television, his eyes had this… this spark. Like he actually looked alive for a second. He smirked and shot back with a retort and for a few seconds there were no cameras and no audience and no hosts and it was Ren and Akechi. It made Ren’s heart actually skip a beat and he nearly said some things hecouldn’t say on network television.

He met Ren after the taping, holding his hand longer than necessary, preening in a way that was totally showing off but also kind of cute, like he was trying to impress the Thief. He gave Ren his phone number and called himwhen he got back to Leblanc.

That night, Ren fell in love before he fell asleep.

In between Metaverse exploits, they talked and hung out as often as Ren could get a hold of him. He knew Akechi was a detective, and Ren was a Thief, but that gap between them made it so much more exciting for Ren. The fact he was hanging out with, even crushing on, a guy assigned to investigate and arrest him, thrilled the wrongly convicted criminal. Dropping little teasing clues in each outing, trying to wiggle his way into his head, telling himself he’s just doing it for information when the real information he wanted was _what did Akechi look like under that blazer and those gloves_. He couldn’t tell anyone, though, obviously; not even his therapist, Maruki. He might have been his counselor, but there had to be some limits, right?

As the weeks and months went by, and Ren started to learn more about Akechi, he realized he was never really seeing the whole person. The Detective Prince showed up for television interviews, a massive dork who nonetheless had every audience playing right into his hands. The Clever Detective who analyzed a case so thoroughly and always brought an interesting perspective for catching a criminal. But Ren’s favorite was the rarest, one he spent maybe a little too much energy trying to antagonize: the Heart-Racing Rival. The version of Akechi whose eyes lit up at morality and philosophy debates, the way his voice sunk low in his chest when he argued for his justice, the ungodly angle of his hips as he showed off in pool using his right hand. Something else was under that rival character. Something hungry. The Dragon, Ren started to call it. Something that blazed with molten fire and jealously hoarded a trove of treasure. But it was like Akechi never wanted to let that side out. Every time it got a little too heated between them, when a flash of anger danced through his eyes, Akechi always flipped right back to the Detective Prince or Clever Detective. Polite, smiling, unengaging. Uninteresting.

Ren wanted more. He wanted to see what the Dragon was hiding. Call it criminal instincts, a desire for secret treasures.

At the jazz club, when Akechi showed a flash of that Dragon, lips almost a sneer, a wildfire alighting his eyes and sharpening the burgundy hue to a more pure red, Ren’s heart couldn’t take it anymore. Ren fumbled his words and held his hand too tight and asked if he’d go out with him, not knowing how else to get closer to that hungry spark he so rarely glimpsed in Akechi’s eyes. With the sound of jazz and the feel of cool air and the darkness all surrounding them, Akechi’s eye _burned_ as he smiled and squeezed Ren’s hand back and said yes. At that moment, Ren saw something shift in Akechi, a strange flicker of weakness even as he looked like he got everything he wanted. He wanted to chase that look like a hound after a rabbit, catch it between his teeth and see all his insides laid bare.

And while Ren chased after Akechi Goro, Black Mask seemed to chase him – no, _them_. Kaneshiro’s Shadow was a nervous wreck after they defeated him, convinced Black Mask was going to kill him as part of some greater conspiracy. But they managed to send the Shadow back to Kaneshiro without incident. Black Mask didn’t reappear.

They didn’t see Black Mask at all in Futaba’s Palace.

Ren didn’t anticipate how frustrating that would be, to suddenly have that mysterious figure absent. Sure, the others were worried about it, for the most part. Ryuji thought he was a coward who vanished while the Phantom Thieves grew in popularity. Ann thought – hoped – he just gave up quietly. Yusuke wondered if he’d found his true calling somewhere else, like a child growing bored of a dangerous game. Makoto, of course, had the most logical answer: Futaba wasn’t a public figure, wasn’t a known criminal target. Even if Black Mask was connected to Medjed somehow, he couldn’t make the connection between the Thieves and Futaba. Additionally, since he didn’t follow them here, he must not know about their real-life identities.

Which was good, Ren told himself. Black Mask isn’t close enough to know about Futaba. Isn’t close enough to know about Boss, about Leblanc… about him.

That was fine. It was _fine._

It didn’t help that Akechi seemed busy this month, too. No Black Mask, no Akechi. Ren was getting… getting _bored._ The Shadows in Futaba’s Palace weren’t as tough as the others, it felt like. Maybe they really were getting stronger, but it didn’t sate the itch growing in the back of Ren’s skull. No Black Mask to drive them harder. No Dragon Akechi to burn him alive.

Akechi was attractive. He knew it, his fans certainly knew it, the TV stations who boosted their ratings airing his interviews knew it. And yet, he agreed to date Ren. He gave Ren these tantalizing glimpses into something else, something more, but being a celebrity, Akechi was always so controlled in public. They barely held hands, and then only through his gloves. Never even kissed.

For the first time since becoming a Phantom Thief, Ren was _bored._ Even as he swung over bottomless pits in an Egyptian mindscape and slew distorted projections of humanity with ruthless ease, everything felt safe. Tame. Polite. _Boring. Boring boring boring._ He missed that hungry look in Akechi’s eyes when he called him _honey_ , the flash of his teeth when he hinted at his allegiance to the Phantom Thieves. He missed those glimpses of Black Mask, always standing over them, away from them, apart from the Thieves on higher ground, superior ground, pushing them to go harder, go faster, risk more. God, but something about being chased thrilled him. He hadn’t had this kind of power before. Back home, he had tried to do something good, and it bit him on the ass. Now, he could feel the hounds nipping his heels, the hot breath of pursuers at his nape, but he had the power now to run, to fight, to lead them on, the aching thrill of being wanted. Not that he got that feeling from Akechi, not lately. He didn’t even answer his texts anymore.

He wanted to chase that hint of roughness out of Akechi. They’d talked about his past, and when he mentioned his father… Akira saw the Dragon again, for a moment. Fire. Rage. Heat. It curled in Ren’s gut. He got greedy. What else was Akechi hiding? What other tantalizing glimpses could he steal from Akechi’s heart?

He said he’d been busy with work. And with the furor over Medjed’s threat and the apparent silence from Ren’s group, that was probably true. And the online hate kept piling up against Akechi, which Ren did feel bad about.

And yet… even as Ren grew frustrated with Akechi and the lack of progress on their relationship, Black Mask’s absence gnawed at him. If he couldn’t get a proper rivalry from Akechi, couldn’t get the keen detective staring him down and making his chest ache like getting his heart eaten, Black Mask could fill that roll. A mysterious, deadly figure just outside their range to catch. Ren didn’t know if they were chasing him or vice versa, but god, Ren loved the pursuit regardless.

After clearing Futaba’s Palace, they just had to wait for her to recover and hopefully resolve this whole Medjed threat. Everyone anxiously awaited Futaba’s recovery. No one wanted to go to Mementos in case Futaba woke up. And Ren was _furiously_ pent up with… with what? Frustration, directionless anger, loneliness. Maybe lust, although that wasn’t something he was used to dealing with, since he’d never had those kinds of feelings for anyone before. And with a sentient cat sharing his bed every night, it wasn’t something he could freely explore on his own, anyway.

The only place he could be alone was Mementos.

He managed to slip away from Morgana one evening, telling him he was going to the baths across the street from Leblanc. He felt a little bad about the lie, and knew Morgana would be worried when he wasn’t back in a reasonable time, but Ren’s thoughts were a Gordian knot, and Mementos the sword to cut through them. What better place for self-reflection than the embodiment of the collective unconscious?

Ren wasn’t planning to do much. Stick to the first few floors, where Shadows were so weak they actively fled him. Skulk around a little, practice his sneaking and hiding, get the jump on a few weaklings and take them out for stress relief. Maybe even a little pocket change, as the cognitive money they dropped turned out to be valid currency in reality. And everything was going fine. Ren, as Joker, felt a little pressure release from his back and neck with every mask he ripped off a Shadow, every final slice of his knife. He’d been down here a while, probably time to head back.

Something grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him _hard,_ throwing him roughly against the craggly walls of Mementos. Knife in one hand, the other on his mask ready to summon a Persona, Joker expected a cheeky Shadow, one of those with a red aura who wouldn’t flee even if it was weaker than him. He did not expect a wicked, sharp black helmet and gleaming red glass eyes, a clawed hand shooting for his throat.

Joker’s instincts kicked in, and he fell into a crouch and dived past Black Mask ( _he’s here, he’s_ _ **here**_ _I couldn’t tell because Mona isn’t around but Black Mask is HERE),_ getting a few crucial seconds to orient himself. Black Mask whipped out a fanged red sword and a shining pistol, leveling the latter at Joker’s head. A sizzling blue beam of energy rather than a bullet whizzed past his head, another near miss. Joker reached for his mask to summon a Persona, but hesitated. They had never fought Black Mask directly, and he had never been close to one of their battles. Joker’s wildcard ability might be his only advantage. He should keep it secret if he can mange.

Instead, he eyed a weakling Shadow just about to slip around a corner. He angled his wrist and before Black Mask could get another shot, he fired his grappling hook into the mass of masks and darkness, hurtling his body into the aggregate and slamming into it boots-first, shattering it before it could reform and attack. Now he and Black Mask were staring down each other from the Mementos passageway.

Before Ren could mount a proper counter-attack, the sound of rattling chains echoed down the tunnel. Both he and the Black Mask froze, staring at each other. Then the helmeted figure jerked his head to the right, the rest of his body following. Was he signaling Ren, or just moving on his own? No time to think. Ren tore after Black Mask. Without Morgana to navigate, and with the app only allowing travel between floors at rest stops, Ren could only follow the maybe-assassin, definitely-criminal, through Mementos. If they’re caught by that big Shadow…

Even though Ren couldn’t sense Shadows like Morgana could, the pressure of the Reaper enclosed around him, and the ghostly sensations of claws sharp as razors grazed his back. Relief came upon seeing a down escalator. The Reaper never followed them across floors. Black Mask already vanished down it, sliding down the immobile banister. Ren took the stairs three at a time, falling to his knees on the landing below. He just managed to register that they lucked out and found a safe room, glassed-in waiting area and all, before a pistol filled his field of vision.

Ren met the glowing red eyes of the Black Mask, standing over him with the gun held between his eyes. He held his breath, waiting for it, knowing he was at the monster’s mercy.

“That look in your eyes,” Black Mask said, voice heavily modulated behind the helmet encasing his face. It sounded almost computerized, like when a criminal eyewitness got interviewed on TV but wanted to hide their identity. It didn’t sound human, let alone familiar. “You aren’t afraid?”

“No,” Ren answered honestly. Strange. He wasn’t afraid of dying generally, though dying now would be kind of stupid. Morgana wouldn’t know where he went, his friends would be left directionless... but that prospect left him more sad than afraid. In truth, after the shit he went through during his trial, the brief stint in jail, and what he’d had to face to become Joker, it wasn’t really death he feared. Just of letting people down, of failing.

But he hadn’t failed yet. Black Mask hadn’t shot him yet; he asked him a question. And if Black Mask was talking instead of shooting, Ren had a chance, because Ren knew how to talk, and especially how to listen. He’d talked his way into getting confidants and co-conspirators across the city, surely he could talk his way out of an assassination.

Being Joker made him cocky.

“All alone,” Black Mask observed, his eyes invisible behind the gleaming glass. “No teammates today, _Joker?_ ”

So, he’d heard some of their conversations, huh? He was relieved they decided to use nicknames early on. “Not today.” He decided to be honest. Not knowing what Black Mask’s powers were, it seemed pointless to pretend.

“No one knows you’re here, do they?” The pistol wavered somewhat, still aimed at him but listing off to the side, giving Ren a better view of his attacker. He knew the general shape and outline of the Phantom Thieves’s stalker, but up close, he couldn’t help but trace the skin-tight lines of his suit, the belts cinching his body at random: behind his knee, across his thigh, over his shoulders, around his arms. At his hands and feet, the fabric flared out and dissolved into jagged shadows that moved with him. The tightness of the clothes allowed him to see every line and swell of muscle of his legs, his arms, his chest. Reminded him of that one time he and Akechi went to the baths, the glimpses he got of his figure then, but too embarrassed to commit the details to memory. Ren swallowed. He… had a nice body.

An insane thought to have about someone pointing a gun at him. But he was on his knees in front of this man who was leering over him, Ren’s heart hammering from the chase and the danger and maybe something else. _Stop it,_ he chastised himself. _You’re already dating someone, you can’t--_

But Akechi isn’t here right now, is he?

“No,” Ren answered both himself and Black Mask.

He wanted to see what expression was under that mask. If his face was as attractive as his silhouette. “Then I could just kill you right now. No one would ever know.” The gun pressed flush to his skin, but instead of making him afraid, Ren’s breath caught in his throat.

“If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already. You could have attacked us at any moment before now, but you never have.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to target you as a group.”

“So you left us alone to do whatever we wanted? To increase our numbers? Spread our influence?” They added two members since they first saw him. If anything, he became bolder the stronger they got. “You’ve been watching us since the beginning. In Mementos or in Palaces. You don’t interfere with us, but you’re… the cause of the mental shutdowns, aren’t you?”

Black Mask laughed, shaking his head, but the gun held steady. “Clever Joker. No wonder you’re the leader.”

“What’s your goal, here?” Ren pressed on. If he can keep him talking, not only might he escape with his life, but also have some useful intel. _If._

“I could ask you the same thing, Phantom Thief. Is your goal truly to reform society? Such trite nonsense.” Black Mask took a step forward, and Ren jumped a little when a cold, clawed metal hand touched his cheek. The gesture was so bold, so forward, he just gaped at him. “Your skills would be better served with me.”

Ren’s eyes widened. Surely… surely he wasn’t trying to get Ren to _join_ him, right? “You murder people,” he shot back, voice soft.

“A technicality. I fight the monsters people become, and then people have _accidents._ ”

“Is that how you justify what you’ve done?”

“And what about you? I heard that teacher threatened to kill himself after your little change of heart. If he had, wouldn’t you be responsible for his death, too?”

Ren’s glare hardened. “That’s different, that was--” But he stopped himself. He remembered Kamoshida bursting into the gymnasium, threatening to kill himself for what he’d done. In that moment, Ren agreed. Because of him, Ann, Shiho, Yuuki, Ryuji, and dozens of others were hurt. For a brief, vindictive second, Ren wanted him dead.

“Yes,” Black Mask crooned. “I love those eyes of yours. So full of anger. And shame, too. You hide all that anger in reality, don’t you? Your teammates wouldn’t like how much rage you truly hold. How much you wish you could be like me.”

Ren tried to pull away, but the claws sunk into his face, trapping him. And again, instead of being afraid, the pain snapped to his spine and shuddered down his skin in a not-unpleasant tingle. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_ He gulped for air, only able to glare up at his attacker.

Black Mask squatted down, meeting Ren’s hard eyes with his imperceptible gaze. He kept the gun against his skull. “You think you’re doing this for _justice_? To be _heroes?_ Don’t make me laugh. You have _no idea_ what’s at stake here. What game you’ve interrupted. You almost ruined everything, but I won’t let you. I’ve waited too long enact my own _justice._ But now, I think you can serve a purpose. You’d be useful to me as a pawn. It’s either that, or you’ll end up dead. What do you say, Joker? Will you become my toy?” The pinpricks of pain sunk further into his flesh, and his words rattled Ren’s brain. Something uncurled in his stomach, a longing he’d been chasing finally being met.

The urge to hunt Shadows on his own in Mementos. The need to tunnel into Akechi’s secrets until they burned him. The thrill of being chased. Directionless anger, directionless… something. Ren’s groin began to ache.

“Oh? What’s this?” Black Mask stood up, his voice stretched around a grin Ren couldn’t see. “Are you _hard?_ ”

Pressure on his groin shot through his body in a white hot flare of pain as Black Mask stepped on his growing erection. To Ren’s horror, a little moan slipped from his throat. Even modulated through his mask, the man’s voice pitched up with something like _glee._ “My, my, Joker, I wouldn’t have thought you were in to this kind of thing.” The foot ground into him again with a sharp twist of an ankle. Ren barely resisted humping into it, breathing shallowly. “I suppose no one in the real world is taking care of your needs, are they? To be so desperate so quickly.”

Shame seared his skin and he ducked his head down, averting his eyes and thinking of Akechi. “Hmm? Was I right? Or maybe you _do_ have someone, and they can’t give you what you want.” Ren’s face burned, trying not to think about him, which meant of course that Akechi was all he could think about.

He was always so careful around Ren. So reserved. Tightly wound from his perfectly knotted ties and the careful gloves and the folded creases of his trousers. Even when he caught glimpses of the Rival, or even the Dragon, Akechi never showed those sides of himself on purpose. Every glimpse of that treasure trove of his secret self quickly buried behind plastic smiles and safe politeness. He can’t remember the last time he felt Akechi’s skin under his hands. If ever? But already Black Mask had his heart slamming in his ears, body aching with need. Ren felt filthy, ashamed, debauched, and that only fueled the desire coursing through him. He never looked too closely at his kinks, sure that once he was with someone in that capacity, things would just… happen, and he would enjoy it. But this was something new. Something he was never really aware of, something he couldn’t really give himself the rare occasion he fantasized about anything like this. The control. The pain. The sweet torment.

The barrel of the gun slipped to Ren’s temple, traced down his jawline and tipped under his chin, forcing his eyes back up. “Don’t worry, Joker, I have what you want. What you so clearly _need._ ” The tip of the gun pricked cold and metallic against his lips. “Get to work.”

Ren eyed the pistol. The barrel was long but narrow, a small raised sight on the tip the only deformation of the cylindrical shape. Disbelief washed over him, along with a growing dread. No way. Despite his body’s eagerness for what Black Mask promised, his brain refused to accept it. Ren’s hand ghosted towards his own dagger.

“Uh-uh,” Black Mask quipped, hand already alighting on his own wicked-looking red toothed saber currently dangling from his hip, gun jostling him insistently. “None of that now. You’ll do what I say, and maybe I won’t kill you. Besides, you’re clearly enjoying it.” The foot still pressing between his legs twitched slightly, and his throat closed on a groan of pleasure.

Black Mask at least had the decency to keep his finger off the trigger. With great trepidation, Ren licked the tip of the gun, eyes trained on what he could see of Black Mask’s eyes, trying to get any reaction from him. He merely jiggled the gun to goad him further. Taking a deep breath, Ren closed his lips just over the protruding sight, the unnatural shape and taste sending alarms through his skull. Bitter oil and cloying gunpowder on his tongue, the taste of sharp cold metal like blood filled his mouth. _The gun didn’t even fire a bullet,_ he thought hazily, _just a beam of energy. Is this just what I think a gun would taste like?_ Sliding his mouth down further, minding the sharp edge of the sight, he took a few more unyielding inches up to his back teeth until his gag reflex began to ignite, and he broke off, panting.

“Was that all you can do?” Black Mask drones, unimpressed. “Do you not know how to suck cock, Joker?” The false electronic voice tittered. “Or maybe that isn’t your preference, although the way you looked at me, that seems unlikely. What is it, then? Are you inexperienced?” He jammed the gun up to Ren’s mouth, would have knocked into Ren’s teeth if he hadn’t flinched away. “Give me a good show if you want to live.”

Chest tight, Ren couldn’t even think of a decent answer. He wanted to snap back at him, lie that this wasn’t his first time doing anything like this, but his own surprise at his body’s betrayal would give him away. Sure, he liked women and men, found attractive qualities in all genders, but he never had a real target for his desires, for fantasizing, never allowed space in his head for such selfish thoughts. Now with something so clear and promising in front of him, desire crystallizing into something solid and sharp in his chest, he still wanted to refuse. To resist. Not to give in to Black Mask’s sick demand. And yet.

His mind felt clear and light for the first time in weeks. No frustration. No boredom. No rage. It was like Black Mask, when he dug five sharp nails into his face, took all that away from him, burning it away until it was him, Ren, and the gun.

Ren closed his eyes and took the gun back into his mouth. Long, but narrow, it fit strangely, not at all how he’d imagine a dick would feel. But he did want to give a good show, so he laved his tongue along the length of the barrel, wetting it down with as much saliva as he could manage. The acrid gunpowder taste from earlier left his mouth dry and repulsed. But imagining he was doing this to a dick helped, and he slicked the golden metal from the tip to where it flared out into the stocky square shape of the magazine before wrapping his lips around it once more, sliding along the length while trying to avoid cutting his mouth on a jagged edge or catching his teeth along the sight. Black Mask held the gun still, to his surprise, even though his muscles clenched at every slightly movement, worried he would jam it down his throat any second.

Yet the thought made his cock twitch a little.

That would be horrifying though, wouldn’t it? Then he’d have to contend with sharp angles down his windpipe, the thickness of the magazine forced between his teeth, gagging and sputtering and unable to breathe around the hard mass in his mouth, drool spooling from his lips…

Ren moaned shamelessly.

“I knew you would enjoy that,” Black Mask sneered, yanking the gun free during one of Ren’s shallow bobs. Dizzy with how into that he actually got, the thought of going even further curdled his guts but also brought fire to his cheeks. He tried not to think of his friends in the real world, no idea how their leader was debasing himself for their enemy. Of Akechi and his soft hair and polite smiles…

Black Mask fisted his metallic hand in Ren’s hair and wrenched him to his feet, angling his neck sharply to the side. Worry and thought melted away in the sharp electric pain zipping down his scalp. Ren didn’t see anything behind the mask, although hinges near where his ears would be suggest a visor could be lifted and show his face. Perhaps that was how he “removed” the mask to summon his Persona. No other Persona-user he’d seen had a mask so fully disguise a person. Fittingly symbolic for an assassin, Ren supposed blearily.

“I’ve wanted to play with you for so long.” The modifications to his voice made his tone hard to interpret, but surely his tone was mocking, not longing. He traced the gun down Ren’s throat, leaving a cold wet trail. “I’d stick my tongue down your throat if I could, but sadly you’ll have to do without. It’s not time for you to see my face, yet.” Ren’s eyes widened a bit. Did that mean he _was_ planning to reveal himself to them at some point?

“If you’re just going to kill me, why not do it now?” Ren asked breathlessly. Was he trying to glimpse Black Mask’s face, or did he just want to kiss him that badly? And why did discussion of his own death quicken his breathing so much?

Black Mask shook his head slightly. “Tempting, but I don’t plan to kill you quite yet. I told you, I have my own plans. And perhaps you can still be useful to me.” Black Mask tossed the gun over his shoulder, startling Ren enough that he could only flinch at the claws around his wrists, twisting him around and getting him shoved face-first against the wall. Black Mask encircled both hands in his steely grip at the small of his back, pushing Ren’s torso flush to the wall. Ren struggled, kicking blindly behind him, but Black Mask stayed out of reach. Ren heard rushed buckling before tight leather cinched around his wrists and squeezed tight.

“There. I’d prefer some proper handcuffs, but that should do just fine.” Ren flexed his fingers and tried to pull his hands free, but only heard the creak of the belt wrapped around him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Black Mask removed one of the bands around his leg to tie him with. His mind raced, not sure how he allowed himself to get to this point, why he felt a welcoming void opening in his mind that whispered _just give in, you know you want to, doesn’t it feel good to just surrender?_ He could have fought back, he could have called a Persona by now, could have done some of the acrobatics he had been training so hard to learn with Kasumi, but he just _stood_ there and let it happen...

Black Mask wormed his hand around Ren’s throat, not squeezing, not yet, but letting him feel the pricking tips of his gauntlets on his flesh, sparks flying from each point. He shivered. “You really are into some wicked things, Joker,” Black Mask teased. “I wonder if even you were aware of it. Those beautiful eyes look so surprised.” The hand on his neck slid up, a sharp thumb tracing his lips. Ren held very still to avoid getting cut, though just the thought of it bled heat into his chest. Black Mask’s other hand against his hip shoved him further into the wall, so his whole body stood rigid and flat. Ren’s mortifyingly persistent erection was now squashed between him and the hard surface. _This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You loved the chase so much because you wanted to catch, or be caught. Now he’s caught you._ _Just surrender,_ _give in, you don’t have to be a leader, you don’t have to try to please him like everyone else. Let him_ take _what he wants instead, because it’s what you want, too…_

A shameful whine stretched from his lungs, and Ren parted his lips, tentatively sucking in his clawed thumb. He could have sworn he heard Black Mask gasp slightly, but maybe that was his own hitched breath as he gave into the filthy insistent thoughts tormenting him. His internal voice had never sounded so clear, so insistent. Was it because it was Mementos? If this was a world of unconscious desire, maybe his own hidden voice was growing louder.

The cold metal pricked sharply at his tongue, and he rolled it over and sucked at it until the claw went warm with his heat. From the gun and the claw, Ren’s tongue tasted only metal, and he couldn’t tell if the inside of his mouth had been cut or not, if his mouth was bleeding. The growl coming from Black Mask sounded monstrous through whatever audio distortion he had. “Filthy,” he spit, although there might have been a hint of pride in there? “Is this why those friends of yours stick around? Do you whore yourself out to them, too? Just jumping on anyone who’s close enough, huh?”

He tried not to think of Akechi, so instead he drowned out his shame by pushing his cheek into Black Mask’s palm. The tip of his clawed thumb pushed with surprisingly gentleness down the base of his tongue, nearly making him gag. “If you want to suck me so badly, just say so.” Ren reeled back to reality for a heady second. Did he…? He was sucking his fingers so eagerly just now and he’d fellated a gun, for god’s sake, but those were just… products of the situation. Reactionary. Forced. They were forced, right?

When Ren refused to answer, Black Mask slid his index and middle fingers into Ren’s mouth as well, making him wheeze with the press and stretch of his mouth. “If you don’t tell me, I’m just gonna finger your mouth. Is that enough for you, Joker?” The electronic voice practically purred. “You’re so dirty, I bet you need more to get off, don’t you?”

Fuck, he’s going to make Ren say it, isn’t it? Voice out loud that he wanted this, agree he was willing. What would happen if he refused…? “Just kill me,” he challenged back, when Black Mask pulled away, the spirit of rebellion flaring back in him during that moment of clarity.

“What, is that what you’re into, then?” The fingers shoved hard through his lips once more, past Ren’s molars, rising a choked gag from Ren and frantic terror that he’d claw up his throat. A vision came and went, of Ren’s throat filling with blood, suffocating him, and his whole body ached. He’d never been more hard. “No, Joker, I want to hear you tell me what you want.” The fingers slipped from his mouth, thick with his panicked drool, a wetness his smeared down Ren’s chin and around his neck. “Don’t worry. If you don’t say anything, I won’t kill you over it. I’m not interested in taking you against your will. No, I actually prefer thinking of you down here, in Mementos, hard and wanting, all alone, hungry for cock from a murderous psychopath.”

He thought of himself as a psychopath? That might have been an interesting look into the rival and opponent of the Phantom Thieves if Ren weren’t so aroused he couldn’t see straight. _Fuck,_ what did he want? Did he actually want something from this guy? Well, if his dick had anything to say about it…

“I… can’t,” he whined, voice strained and pathetic and not all like himself.

“Oh, why not? Don’t tell me, you’re saving your chastity for someone else?” Black Mask curls another metallic hand against the curve of Ren’s ass, jolting him further against the wall until he’s practically humping it. “Can anyone in the real world really give you what you _need?_ ” The voice buzzes tinnily in Ren’s ear.

Could he imagine Akechi doing this sort of thing? Certainly not that Detective Prince character he flaunted around so much. The Akechi who wouldn’t touch him unless Ren touched first. The one who turned his head demurely when he leaned in and hoped for a kiss. The boyfriend who only went out on dates if Ren asked first. He felt tears burn behind his eyes. Maybe he had been hasty in asking Akechi out. He saw something in him he wanted, but… was this what he wanted after all? Was he imagining that fire in Akechi because he wanted something like this? He was cute, he was funny, he was smart, but perfect boys like him wouldn’t corner him and ravage him like he craved so desperately.

“Do it,” Ren whispered hoarsely.

“What was that?” Black Mask goaded in a voice that might have been sickly sweet unmodulated. Maybe. Ren had no idea how he might sound. “Be more specific, Joker.”

“Do _me!_ ” He begged desperately, voice edging nearly hysterical. “Please, god, fuck me!”

Black Mask’s laughed in pure delight. “Wonderful. Get in that booth, then, and bend over the bench like a good boy, Joker.”

Panting, face burning from shame, he walked into the glassed-off waiting area, eyeing the two long benches that, during a normal infiltration with his team, would be filled up with his friends, lounging and taking a break and chatting. Now Ren was gonna let himself get fucked on one. But with his hands bound behind his back, he didn’t know an easy way to do as Black Mask demanded, so when he followed Ren inside, he grabbed him by the hair and shoved his head down against the grainy wood.

“There you go. Stay put for me, Joker.” Ren kept his head down, kind of glad he wouldn’t have to look at what was going to happen. He wanted it, god he knew how bad he ached for it, but the humiliation of allowing it to happen, giving in to this selfish new desire, was somehow so much worse. He heard strange rustling and tearing of fabric, then felt Black Mask’s hands dip around his own hips, making him jolt. “Don’t be so skittish _now_ ,” he tutted, undoing Ren’s belt with a practiced ease. Shit, of course, why wouldn’t Black Mask be more experienced than him? Somehow that made this even worse. “You’re the one who demanded this of me so prettily. What, do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Ren groaned, and he hated himself for it.

“Good boy.” The way he pulled down Ren’s slacks was almost gentle, even as his skin being exposed to the cold stale underground air of Mementos made him hiss. “I knew you wanted something like this,” he crooned, and Ren jumped when he felt bare skin touching his thighs. Freakishly, he almost missed the sharp points of the claws. “Watching you all that time, suspecting what goes on in the mind of the Phantom Thief leader…”

Watching him? For how long? They’d only seen each other a handful of times. Could Black Mask have been watching them longer? “You’re sick,” Ren muttered without any heat.

Black Mask chuckled. “I am aware. More than you know, Joker.” Those hands kneaded the flesh of Ren’s backside, almost soothingly. “What about you? Have you ever been able to entertain your dark little fantasies?” His thumb slid down the cleft of his ass, grazing over his entrance and making Ren shudder. “Are you a virgin, Joker?”

How much shame can a heart hold? Ren squeezed his eyes shut and tried to shove his forehead into the bench. He didn’t want to answer, but Black Mask wanted to drag the words out of him. If Ren didn’t answer, he might stop, and Ren _definitely_ didn’t want that. “Yes,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

The thumb worked circles around Ren, and he twitched against it. “Beautiful. I’m so pleased I get to be your first.” The hint of affection he picked up in his voice made Ren’s head spin. Why, why, why would he act like that? Wasn’t he just a murderer? An enemy? Why would he even… suggest something like this in the first place?

Ren’s thoughts fractured at the cold sensation of something smooth and liquid running down his ass and between his thighs. A strange calm settled over him, the distinctive Metaverse effect of a relax gel. “What are you –” Ren started to ask, but the relax gel smoothed out the sharp edges of his shame and embarrassment, the same as it would when a Shadow inflicted despair. With nothing to hide behind, Ren moaned wantonly as Black Mask eased a finger inside him.

“I see you’re really feeling it, huh, Joker?” Black Mask pressed tightly up against Ren’s body, leaning over him as his finger worked in with careful ease. His other hand reached around to palm Ren’s erection, earning another guttural noise. “Here, too? Your body is so honest.”

Fuck, the strange unfamiliar feeling of the finger and the slightly-familiar but wholly new sensation of a stranger’s hand on his dick overwhelmed him, and Ren groaned helplessly, bound arms twitching and flailing. Every jut of his hips into Black Mask’s grip dragged his finger out of his hole, the stretch of his rim burning in an intoxicating, maddening rush. Black Mask crooked his finger and worked it in deeper, pressing searchingly until a warm pulse of electric pleasure jolted up Ren’s spine.

“So honest,” Black Mask repeated, moving his finger out and back in, seeking that same spot. Ren sunk onto the bench, his cheek and chest bearing the brunt of his weight, shoulders straining at the angle of his bound wrists. The ache warned of a full-on cramp incoming, but Ren didn’t even think to ask to be released.

His brain didn’t know which to focus on – the sharp, deep pleasure rolling inside of him, or the aching, insistent stroking of his front. Ren’s body jerked and thrust without direction, unable to tell which felt better, which he needed more of. It didn’t even hurt like he thought it might –

Then Black Mask worked in a second finger, and the stretch of his rim _burned_ and he gasped and the pain shot right to his dick and his knees jerked up to his chest –

“Shhh,” he heard Black Mask say, or maybe it was static from his voice modulator. The hand left his cock and instead applied more gel, the cool sensation settling the initial pain of insertion. Two fingers now twined slowly past the tight, scared ring of muscle, and Ren’s voice whined a continuous thin sound of need from his chest. Every forward thrust pitched his voice higher, every aching retraction a guttural low groan. Still, after the initial shock of the second finger, Ren craved more, jerking his hips back into the intruding digits, the fullness and dirtiness of the whole thing making his mouth dry.

Black Mask scissored his fingers experimentally, and Ren yelped and whined. “You make such pretty sounds,” he praised. “I guess you _are_ a virgin. So tight and eager –” He jammed his fingers as deep as he could, then whispered, “I guess your boyfriend never touches you like this, does he?”

Ren’s throat closed up in a swell of fresh panic and shame. No! How did he… ? Even through the metaphysical calmness of the relax gel, his head suddenly grew heavy with the weight of his adultery. Couldn’t be… there was no way he knew… “I don’t have –”

He rammed his fingers harder and faster into Ren than he had up till now, a vicious attack that stole his breath as his brain tried to figure out if that felt _amazing_ or if he was been actually in a lot of pain. “Don’t lie now.” He still couldn’t read the man’s tone, but he sounded pissed off. “You were playing coy earlier, but I know you actually have a boyfriend. Not a very attentive one, either.” Black Mask returned to tormenting his prostate, tempering the burning humiliation with jolts of pleasure, muddying up Ren’s head until he wanted to cry.

Akechi… this fucker knew about Akechi. How? And – _fuck –_ if he did, could Akechi be in danger? Sure, he was one of the most accomplished, capable people Ren had ever met- it was part of why he cared so much about him. But an assassin knowing Ren’s loved ones was basically the worst fucking thing imaginable. Worse than, say, cheating on said loved one with the goddamn assassin.

“Stop it,” Ren moaned, his shoulder shuddering. Everything was all messed up, clouding his chest with torment and confusion. “Leave him out of this!”

“Why should I? He’s been terrible to you. Leaving you all alone like this.” Black Mask returned to a shocking gentleness, adding another slick of lubricating gel and working it deeper inside him. The gesture was so intimate, felt so good, Ren couldn’t process it, his brain too full, too heavy. A third insistent pressure began to edge at his rim. “But our tastes align nicely. Don’t worry, Joker. I can take care of you.”

When the third finger eased its way inside, Ren’s eyes rolled back into his head. Fuck… he wanted to stop, wanted to stop, his chest tight and shoulders clamped in a painful vice and eyes swimming in barely-restrained tears, but his voice coiled tightly around unshed sobs, the aching, wonderful pain inside him coiling up his guts and mingling with the heat of his shame to create a helpless cocktail that rendered him a drooling mess on the bench. This wasn’t the sweet surrender of control his inner voice wanted. This was a game of domination and humiliation, and as much as Ren hated it, hated himself for what he agreed to do, the danger he put Akechi in, his throbbing hard cock wouldn’t let him escape the fact that he was still _so turned on._

“Leave him out of this.” Ren tried to sound authoritative, but his voice came out breathier than he wanted, more pleading.

“Oh, don’t worry, I intend to.” Black Mask’s voice might have been a twisted sneer. “After all, you declined to mention him after my little proposition, didn’t you? It’s clear how deep your feelings actually go.” He stretched out his fingers again, widening all three until Ren nearly shrieked at the intensity.

“Shut up! You can’t – _shit!_ – know how I feel –”

“I know you better than you think.” The speed of Black Mask’s voice quickened, edging into hysterical. His fingers started pumping faster, harder, plunging into Ren with a ferocity that shorted out his brain until he could hardly understand what he was saying. “Surrounding yourself with people who are useful to you. Helping them out only in exchange for something. Acting so charming and helpful – when you’re really so _selfish._ You only want – what people can _do_ for you. So what was he to you, huh? What did he give you – if he wasn’t giving you _this?!_ That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? Wanting to use me to get off – just like I’m going to use you!”

“No,” Ren slurred uselessly, trying to wrap his limp mouth around the words even as they scattered to fog in his head. “You’re wrong – I never – _used_ him –”

“Liar!” Black Mask hissed, suddenly wrenching his fingers out of Ren. The cold empty feeling hollowed out his chest for an instant before a hard, hot length pressed aggressively against his hole. He clamped his mouth shut, teeth grinding together as fear instinctively flooded his brain. Is he… are they gonna…? “ _This_ is what you really wanted from him, isn’t it? All your cute little dates, all over Tokyo, desperate to see him, _jumping_ at the chance when he messaged you about being alone, but you never got the one thing you wanted from him. After my cock, you won’t need him anymore anyway!”

The first thrust of Black Mask into Ren made him howl and uselessly kick away, trying to escape the white-hot surge of pain as his cockhead speared him open. Fuck, even after three fingers ramming him so hard, Black Mask felt _huge,_ scraping his inside with a ferocious aggression which Ren answered with a piteous whine. And yet. The intimacy of the pain still came with a strange glowing arousal knowing that _there is a cock inside me right now._

Black Mask held him there, as though he, too, were stunned at the sensation, or maybe having a moment of generosity to allow Ren to acclimate. If the latter, he certainly didn’t wait long before he started shallowly thrusting into Ren’s ass. Each harsh scrape punched a chesty groan out of Ren’s body, heat flaring in his cheeks to his fingertips. Every moan goaded Black Mask further, pace quickening, his own electronic breaths growing ragged.

“ _Fuck,_ Joker,” his voice came out in a pitchy hiss, “tell me how good it feels. Tell me how much you love my cock.” Ren couldn’t formulate the words, couldn’t process the demand, mind screaming and full of Black Mask and Akechi and pain and shame and pleasure. Even the shallow thrusts shoved against his prostate and dripped molten fire into his veins. Slack-jawed, gasping vowels fell from his incomprehensible lips as Black Mask ripped further into him, jolting him against the bench. Somewhere, in the depth of Ren’s brain, he wondered if he could get cognitive splinters in his face from this.

“This is what you wanted all along – someone to put you in your place, is that it? Someone to give control to your shitty, shitty life. Poor little Joker, all on his own, left to fend for himself, having to lead a group of hopeless teenagers to certain doom – that’s why you’re dating that detective, isn’t it? You wanted him to catch you – to punish you – fuck you stupid and lock you away –”

Ren’s whole body shuddered and he wailed, shoulders spasming, locking up, the restraints on his arms locking his muscles too rigid for too long. “You’re wrong,” he droned out, tears streaming out of his eyes but he could barely form his lips around the words when Black Mask pulled completely out then slammed past his rim again, tearing him open, and Ren’s voice cracked on the wild cry that erupted from his body, scrabbling up the bench in an instinctive bid for escape.

“Liar,” Black Mask hissed again, chasing after Joker and yanking him by the hip with one hand and grabbing his bound wrists in the other. “You only want him for what he can give you. You’re just like me, Joker! _Just. Like. Me!_ ”

Yanking Ren up with a tug on his arms, his back met Black Mask’s chest, changing their angles so his thrusts weren’t quite as hard but he felt him even deeper. The hand on his hip shot around to hold his still-clothed torso tightly against him, which Ren, in a haze, was grateful for, because he couldn’t hold himself upright anymore.

“Stop it,” he moaned, even as he leaned into Black Mask’s body and appreciated the strong arms that held him. “Just stop… stop…”

“Stop? _Stop?!_ You don’t want me to stop now, Joker, not when you wanted this for so long!” Black Mask kept a brutal pace, and Ren didn’t know how much longer his body could take it. His head swam in the heat of every thrust spearing him right to his core, sending flares of pleasure along every nerve ending, but at the same time his hole _screamed_ from the intensity, unused to such aggressive attention. And yet, even that fed right back that loop of arousal, to the point he didn’t know when his body would hit its limit and just give out on him.

“Please,” he begged, rocking back into Black Mask. He didn’t know what he was asking for. “Please, please, _please –_ ”

“Shit!” Black Mask swore, then he grabbed Ren’s cock and started pumping up and down furiously. No technique, no gentleness, and Ren cried out weakly at the intense stimulation.

“Too much,” Ren whined helplessly. “Too much, I can’t, I can’t –”

“Call his name,” Black Mask hissed viciously at his ear. “If you even can. If you can even imagine that pathetic fake smiling show-off doing _anything_ like this for you.”

Too far gone, orgasm burning a supernova in his groin, Ren screamed for Akechi as he came. “ _Goro!_ Fuck, fuck me, fuck me Goro, god _yes –_!”

Semen coated Black Mask’s hands and shot up on Ren’s own vest, splotching the gray suit with pearly milky white. Streams of expletives erupted from Black Mask, fizzing into static as he chased his own climax into Ren’s wrecked body, fucking quivering moans from him until he came, too, although Ren’s abused hole was too numb to feel more than the erratic twitching of his cock.

They stayed like that for a heartbeat, and another, and a third, before Black Mask roughly shoved Ren back against the bench. Ren barely caught himself to lower down gently, glad his training included ab work, because he would definitely have smashed his face without his hands to stop his fall. Mercifully, Ren dimly registered Black Mask removing the belt from his wrists. His fingertips tingled as blood rushed back to his extremities, a fact he distantly recognized as meaning the restraints were far too tight. But really, what was he expecting? This whole encounter was all around _too much._

Twitching, panting, and a tear occasionally escaping down his cheek, Ren’s offline brain noted how Black Mask lingered behind him. Didn’t immediately run off. Panted with just as much exertion, hands hovering but not touching. With his inscrutable masked face, Ren decided his body language reeked of… hesitation? Shock? Like he couldn’t believe what he just did, either.

He stayed for a long time. Too long, though Ren didn’t know how long that actually meant. It it felt like an age had passed when Black Mask stood from the bench, correcting his skintight suit and covering himself where Ren noted actual tears in the fabric where he ripped it off his body.

“Next time your precious Goro blueballs you, feel free to find me down here, _Joker._ I’m the only one who can take care of you.” Ren’s postcoital language processor must be offline, because something about those clipped, staccato words sounded utterly _despaired._ Even more unbelievable was the soft, hesitant, shaking hand that briefly carded his curly hair before vanishing completely.

“Don’t follow after me,” Black Mask quipped in an attempt to regain some of that haughty arrogance from before. “Although… you don’t look like you’re quite up for the task of moving, just yet.” He laughed, and the sound rang hollowly in Ren’s ears. Cruel, Mocking. And sad. “Until next time.”

Ren laid on that bench long after he knew he was alone, panting, aching, not sure if he could properly move. Morgana’s probably worried about him by now. But all he could think about was Akechi. How he’d betrayed him. Gone behind his back. How he’ll have to lie to him –

Wait.

Ren replayed the conversation he’d had with Black Mask. It was hazy, his horny brain not finding it fit to record everything that was said in favor of everything he felt but… did he say something about a message Akechi sent? Sure, maybe Black Mask had seen Ren and Akechi out in the world, maybe had figured out Ren’s identity somehow… but how would he know about Ren’s text messages with Akechi?

Shit.


	2. Chapter 2

Ren didn’t go back to Mementos after that.

No one suspected a thing, of course. Ren had developed a very good poker face during his time in court, honed to a mirror’s shine during the Kamoshida incident and after embracing the criminal lifestyle of a phantom thief. And while everyone was anxiously awaiting the Medjed decision and Futaba’s mysterious solution, the thought of training and exploration was the last thing on anyone’s mind.

But Ren couldn’t stop thinking about it. For the first time, after Morgana went to sleep, he snuck down into the public bathroom of Leblanc that also pathetically operated as his own toilet and touched himself while thinking about what happened just a few nights ago. Remembering the cold metal of the gun on his lips, the sharp points of those claws on his skin, the bite of the leather at his wrists, his hole still aching, he furiously stroked himself to completion, then stared in mute horror at the sticky mess he made over his own hands and pants. He frantically cleaned up and returned to bed, face burning, mortified that he came a _second_ time from Black Mask, even if indirectly.

He wasn’t like that before. Sex had been this… this abstract thing, something he’d probably like to do in the future, but not something he spent any time on in the present. But now it was all he could think about. During class, at his part-time jobs, even practicing brewing coffee, he kept imagining the feel of fingers stretching him open, of cruel words cutting through his psyche, and it drowned out everything else he used to think was important. When he’d asked Akechi out, he thought he had been chasing a beast lingering behind a mask, when really, the monster was inside of him all along.

He… didn’t see Akechi, either.

He messaged Ren a few times, asking to go to the jazz club or shoot pool or something. Ren ghosted his first few messages, his inside twisting so violently he thought he’d be sick even seeing his name in his notifications. But Akechi didn’t deserve that, so after a while he at least rejected him properly. But he knew that wouldn’t last long. He couldn’t keep stringing him along like that, especially when Akechi knew where he worked. And lived.

About two weeks after the debacle in Mementos, Akechi arrived without warning at Leblanc one Friday evening, just before close. Sojiro was already on his way out when the bell rang, and he paused, his apron already untied and halfway over his neck. “Welcome,” he called out before Ren noticed the customer, elbow-deep in dish washing.

“Good evening,” came the cool, pleasant, overly polite voice. Ren froze. He could hear the smile on his face, and thinking of Akechi’s sweet expressive face, even the forced Detective Prince smile, made him want to curl up and die. “I’m not too late, am I?”

“We were just about to close up,” Sojiro answered gruffly, “but for a friend of Ren’s, I think it’ll be fine.” Ren wondered if Sojiro would be so forgiving of his friends if he hadn’t been recently responsible for his adoptive daughter’s sudden and miraculous recovery from agoraphobia. Sojiro finished removing his apron and tossed it at the back of Ren’s head, jolting him from his dish-washing trance. “Hey, I gotta go home and check on her. You can manage him, right?”

Ren wasn’t sure he could speak, so he just nodded.

“Lock up when you’re done,” he threw out as his usual farewell, then another little jingle of a bell and click of a door, and they were alone together.

Ren washed his hands twice before taking a deep breath and heading behind the counter. “What’ll it be, Akechi-san?” He tried to tease, but his voice was a little higher and tighter than normal. “The usual?”

“Please,” Akechi chirped happily. Ren distracted himself with the beans, the grind, the water, the pour. Akechi watched the whole process silently, which was unusual. Usually, he liked to chat away about something, talk about a case, wax philosophical, discuss current events. Usually, Ren loved listening to anything he had to say. Instead, the silence was a relief, and it suffocated.

“Is something wrong, Ren?” Akechi asked when he set the cup in front of him. Ren couldn’t keep his eyebrow from twitching. His hands itched to fiddle with his hair, a bad nervous habit, so he shoved them in his apron pockets instead.

“Not really,” he lied, burning his tongue. “Why?”

“I just feel like I haven’t seen you for a while, that’s all.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Busy? It’s summer break.” His smile grew a breath sharper, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. The Prince giving way to the Detective. But Ren didn’t feel the giddy rush that normally accompanied the doffing of the mask.

“Yeah, I ended up needing to help out a friend with some summer homework. Big project on ancient Egypt.”

Surprise flickered across his face. “Oh? I didn’t realize you were interested in history.”

Back to their easy rhythm. Ren sunk into it with bone-deep relief. Just act normal. You can finish sorting your feelings later, and do right by Akechi.

( _But does that mean admitting to what I did?_ )

“Mostly the mythology,” he responded easily. “You know, Isis, Thoth, Anubis, the whole gang.”

Akechi snorted into his coffee. “That’s not even… _close_ to the ‘whole gang.’ What about Bast? Osiris? Set? _Ra?_ I worry for your friend’s grade.”

Ren smiled, and it almost felt real. “Well, they are the ones I have a connection to, that’s all.”

“A connection,” he repeated, not a question. A ghost of a smile haunted his lips.

“Mm-hmm,” Ren hummed back, closing his eyes to feel the faint lingering Personas picked up from the pyramid. “Isis, the mother goddess, friend of sinners and the downtrodden alike. Thoth, a god of knowledge and balance, he granted Isis the ability to bring Osiris back from the dead. And Anubis, god of the dead. He judged which people were good and which people were bad.” He opened his eyes and met Akechi’s curious stare. “Any of those sound familiar?”

Akechi finished his coffee slowly, his eyes fixed on Ren’s so intensely that he felt his smile falter, doubt creep back into his heart. “You must think very highly of yourself, if you’re comparing yourself to gods, Ren.” Akechi said, voice gentle. “What sin of yours need to be judged, then? What power do you have to restore that which is broken?”

Each word formed its own little needle and pierced Ren’s heart. “Ah, pardon me,” Akechi interrupted the silence, setting down the mug and reaffixing the perfect TV smile, the one Ren hated. “I know I’m keeping you open past your usual hours. I’ll see you later, won’t I?”

* * *

They eventually returned to Mementos. Requests on the Phan-Site never ceased, and Futaba needed training. With her Persona’s unique abilities, it didn’t take long to find _him_.

“Joker! I’m getting a weird reading at the entrance. It’s moving crazy fast, following us down!”

Everyone in the Monabus tensed. Was Black Mask pursuing them directly now? They had only arrived in Mementos a few minutes ago! But… if he knew enough about Ren to know about Akechi… was he being followed?

“Let’s get to a rest area,” Ren advised. “If he comes after us, we don’t want to worry about Shadows, too.”

They were a few floors down from the last landing, and Oracle couldn’t predict when the safe area would be. Queen caught Ren’s eyes in the rearview mirror of the Monabus. “Joker, are you sure it’s safe to keep moving forward? Maybe we should try going back up-”

“And risk running into him? Oracle, do you still have a bead on his location?”

She curled up in the backseat, fiddling with knobs on the sides of her massive goggles. “Every time I catch his signal, he moves. It’s like he knows. I don’t know where he is now, but he’s definitely descending at a rapid pace.”

Ren grit his teeth. “If we go up, then we might run into him. Let’s just keep moving forward.”

Queen hesitantly agreed, but the mood on the bus tensed. No banter, no jokes. Ren sped past Shadows so fast that Mona yowled in protest. He would apologize later, to everyone, as long as he could get through this encounter without seeing Black Mask again.

Joker’s lucky, but not that lucky.

“He’s here!” Oracle suddenly shrieked. “He just entered this floor! How is he so _fast_?!”

“Joker?” Panther’s voice was high and nervous.

“Awright, it’s about time! Let’s face this asshole!” Skull shouted, hefting his club and smacking the roof of the bus.

“ _Yow,_ Skull, watch what you’re doing–”

“Everyone, _out_!” Ren barked in his most authoritative Joker voice. “Let’s end this.”

They cleared out and Mona transformed back into his humanoid form, just as Black Mask strolled around the corner, confidence and smugness radiating down the corridor.

“The Phantom Thieves of Hearts,” came the achingly familiar electronic voice. Ren’s guts roiled to hear him, and he stepped in front of his friends.

“Black Mask,” he said in warning, hand on his mask. “What do you want?”

He kept walking towards them, horns of his mask gleaming in the dim light. With the glowing eyes and the horns and the sleek sharp metal like a reptilian snout, he looked like a dragon. “Is that what you call me? How unoriginal. I think you may have a particular idea of what I _want_.”

Ren shuddered, reaching for his pistol as Black Mask whipped out his own.

“Isis!” Ren yelled, ripping off his mask. He intended to cast Makarakarn to buff everyone from whatever magic attacks Black Mask had, but he stood, bare and unmasked, and no Persona came to his call. Ice slithered into his veins, and for a moment, time stood still.

“Carmen!” Ann cried, sending a wave of fire down the hall and grabbing Ren by the arm, yanking him backwards. Everyone surged into action, rushing past a stunned Ren, staring at his Joker mask in his hand. He sensed his Personas curled in a corner of his head, but they were distant and dormant like in the real world.

“Megidolaon.” The altered voice rang out calm and sure, then all his friends screamed as a hot white light filled the hall, blinding Ren. When the brightness faded, everyone, even Oracle, was collapsed on the ground.

“No!” Ren shrieked, frantically digging through his bag for the Revivadrin from Takemi, but before he could make it over to his friends, Black Mask rushed him, moving so fast Ren could only back away, tripping over himself and dropping the tube of medicine.

Leaving Black Mask standing over him.

“That’s a good look on you, Joker,” Black Mask coos. “Fear.”

“Let me get to them,” Ren hissed, scrabbling for the auto-injecting pen and clenching it so hard in his gloved fist he worried it might break. “If they don’t get this soon, then-”

“If I let you help them, what’s in it for me?” Black Mask interrupted. He touched Ren’s bare face, Joker mask forgotten in his other hand, claws stroking down his cheek like a caress, soft, almost ticklish.

Ren’s heart hammered in his chest. No, not again. His friends – he could see them around Black Mask’s striped legs. Mona’s tail twitched once, twice. If Ren could get to him, he knew Recarm. He could revive the others. As long as they were just unconscious, they were relatively safe, but if they stayed on this floor too long…

Ren swallowed hard, his throat dry. “What… do you want?” He knew the answer already.

Black Mask fiddled with the belt around his hips while the hand on Ren’s face grabbed his jaw. “Open your mouth,” he demanded, and everything in Ren unfurled.

He opened his mouth as Black Mask uncinched his belt and his outfit came apart, exposing his soft cock.

“Get it hard and I’ll fuck your throat. Do a good job and I’ll let you save your friends.”

Ren’s breath already came out thin and short, but those words filled his head with cotton, slowing everything down. More shame slivered through his core knowing his friends were _right there,_ in his sight, as he nervously closed his mouth around the limpid flesh. Ren hated himself even as his tongue dragged over the twitching cock starting to respond in his mouth. _I’m sorry,_ he thought desperately, raggedly, sucking and drooling, his own cock already starting to respond. He’d done worse than this already, hadn’t he? And hadn’t he obsessed over doing this again, fantasized about it? Ren ached, and hurt, and loved it.

It didn’t take long for Black Mask’s hardness to be too much for Ren, forcing him off his length to bob experimentally down the shaft. Sharp needlepoints of claws teased his skin, but the words were what tore into him. “Not even a moment of hesitation, Joker? Lowly attic trash. Did you think about me when I was gone? Did you look at your boyfriend and wish I were fucking you instead?” Ren squeezed his eyes shut, didn’t think about Akechi, his friends, or Black Mask, let his head fog with fuzzy desire.

Black Mask rocked his hips, gently at first, into Ren’s waiting mouth, and a muffled moan vibrated from his throat. “ _Fuck_ yes,” Black Mask hissed. “You really love this, don’t you? Should have made you beg for it first. You would have done it, too, you cockhungry slut, wouldn’t you?” Ren couldn’t tell if his tears were from the delicious cruel words, the hesitant flicker of his gag reflex at every stroke, or just everything, _everything_. A metal thumb brushed away the first drop that leaked from the corner of his eye. “I love that I can see your filthy face, too,” he purred. “Openmouthed and waiting for me, moaning around me _._ ” Ren didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, moving up and down his cock, precum beading on his tongue, wanting more even as his hackles raised with every thrust that went a little too deep, a little too hard. A torturous desire to be wrecked, ruined, a longing so strong and toxic he worried it could jeopardize everything until Ren lay cracked open and bled dry, with a hungry mouth still begging for more.

Black Mask’s hands drifted. One to the back of his head, the other forming a spiked collar around his neck. “I’m going to fuck that needy little mouth, Joker,” his voice came out quiet and strained. “Breathe through your nose. If you get sick on my dick, you will regret it.”

Ren tensed for a second, realized that was probably a bad idea, then forced himself to relax, settling against the thick of cotton blanketing until he was pliant and ready. Black Mask coiled the hand at his head into his curls and slammed Ren’s head down on his cock, and the force of it nearly did make him puke. He gagged, the bile rising in his throat, stomach clenching, but he swallowed it down, tried breathing through his nose as instructed even as his watery eyes clogged his sinuses with snot. Black Mask pulled back immediately, draconic mask quirking to the side, looking down to study Ren’s reaction.

The hand at his throat rubbed him raw, and he remembered the taste of those claws in his mouth. “Beautiful.” He whispered it so quietly Ren didn’t know he heard it right. Then his hips jutted forward, filling Ren again, and he couldn’t help but tense, and gag, but this time Black Mask didn’t stop, hissing and growling and thrusting and Ren could only keep his mouth open, focus on the ache of his jaw and between his legs, tears sliding uselessly down his face as horrid wet gurgles resounded from his throat, stomach churning, trying to keep calm and relaxed but how could he with a cock ramming past his soft palate and stretching his throat, needlepoints pressing so hard against him they might be drawing blood, sniffling at every breath, abdomen twitching and convulsing. Ren felt sick. Miserable. Blissed-out and mindless.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Black Mask spat vehemently. “I’m gonna come in your mouth, Joker. Take every drop – swallow down every bit. Do it.”

Ren’s head swam in distant delight or delirium. How would he swallow with a cock in his throat? What did cum even taste like? The thoughts drifted through the haze but faded just as quickly, and Ren could only sit hungry and obedient until Black Mask’s distorted voice warbled, “I’m coming – _fuck,_ Joker, take it all, take it, take it–!”

Hot liquid filled his mouth and his brain lit up in a panic. Instead of just choking it felt like drowning. He wanted to pull away, but he kept coming, and the hand on his head dug in sharp, and he couldn’t move, and he sputtered, swallowed, thick and slimy and bitter fluid coating his throat, his unsettled stomach twitching and heaving without traction. Black Mask forced his head off the way he forced him on, practically throwing Ren to the dirt. He would have gone down, too, too fucked out of his mind to even hold himself upright.

“There,” Black Mask panted, trying to sound haughty even though Ren could see the heaving concavity of his chest, the slight quiver of his hand as he tucked himself away. “That will have to hold you over for now, until I can get you alone again. Go save your friends, if you must. Have fun explaining the tent in your pants. And don’t keep me waiting, or I will make you come to me.” And then he just. Left.

Ren knew they didn’t have long. The whole encounter must have lasted less than ten minutes. But that was long enough. Hazy, swallowing thickly, he crawled over to Mona. Uncapped the Revivadrin and stuck Mona in his tiny leg. Depressed the plunger.

Didn’t take long before he was sitting up, ears flickering. “Huh, what? Joker? Hey!”

Exhausted from his encounter, and not sure how much of his face was a giveaway, Ren curled up on the ground, pretending to be hurt. “Get the others,” he groaned, and his voice came out warbled and low. “I’m stable, just rez everyone else, Mona. We need to move on.”

* * *

Ren stared at his reflection in the dim light of Leblanc’s bathroom mirror for a long time after they got home. They still managed to finish the requests, but Ren knew his excuse for how he drove off Black Mask was weak. He didn’t think anyone suspected what had happened – why would they. They didn’t see anything. Nothing killed his erection faster than the grim reminder he let himself get fucked while his friends were passed out around him.

He couldn’t let this go on. Black Mask couldn’t keep using him like this – he couldn’t let himself be used. He’d become a liability to the team. Especially since… even after Black Mask departed, Ren couldn’t call his Persona. For the first time, he’d had to step back from the main lineup and put Queen in charge. He asked Caroline and Justine at the end of the night, and they reminded him that Personas were true reflections of the heart. Removing his mask meant facing his true self. If he couldn’t summon his Personas, then it meant he wasn’t able to face himself honestly anymore.

And how could he? Now he’d not only betrayed Akechi, but he’d let down the whole team. It was just like Black Mask said. He was trash. He had to make this right, or else the Phantom Thieves would crumble. He needed to be the confident, suave, sure Joker, adaptable and maleable to every situation. Not Ren, not poor, pathetic, needy Ren, so desperate for attention he changed his personality for every friend, that he opened his mouth for an assassin just because he told him to.

 _Fuck._ This was ending, tonight.

He met Akechi at the same cafe they visited a couple months ago, when he got recognized by some fans. The feel of his impossibly soft hair had lingered as a sense memory against his fingertips for days after. Before, Ren thought of this as their first unofficial date spot. Maybe there was a kind of justice to be had in ending it all here, too.

Right on time, as always, Akechi strode into the dining area, drawn to Ren as sure as gravity, taking the seat across from him. The table was too small, Akechi too close. Every muscle in Ren’s body humming like a fraying electric wire.

“It’s good to see you again,” he greeted warmly, pleasant smile affixed with absolute precision. Ren felt like a black hole, greedily sucking in that light and warmth only for it to vanish within him, never to return.

“Same,” he lied, taking a sip of water to coat his aching, tight throat. He could hardly stand to even look at him.

Clever Akechi never missed a thing. “Something wrong, Ren?”

A spark of familiarity kindled in him. “Seems like you’ve been asking that a lot, lately.”

“Well, of course I’d be worried about my sullen boyfriend. You’ve been acting strange, lately.”

The spark turned to spikes. It hurt to breathe. “I’m sorry about that.”

“But you invited me out for once. Does that mean you’re finally feeling better?”

 _Not exactly._ Ren took a deep breath, winced. Dammit. He’d never dated anyone before ( _never cheated on them, either_ ), how did he start this? He can’t just get sucked into their usual banter. Better to be like Joker, just jump in and rip the mask right off. “Akechi, I’m sorry. But I-” Pause. _Show him your true, ugly form._ “I’m breaking up with you.”

Akechi went still. Face blank, carefully cultivated neutrality. Ren clenched his fists in his lap, guts squirming with bile and hatred. But this was for the best. This was the best for Akechi, and for himself.

“This is sudden,” Akechi said on an exhale, like he’d been holding his breath. “Ren, did I… do something wrong?”

“No, of course not. It’s… it’s me. I’m... I–” he still couldn’t look at him. The smallest act of cowardice he allowed himself. Squeezed his eyes shut, jumped into the abyss. “I slept with someone else, Akechi. And I feel horrible about it, and you – you deserve someone better.”

The silence is cold, frozen, paralyzing. Air trapped in Ren’s lungs, shrinking, collapsing in on themselves. He wouldn’t debase himself, cheapen this last attempt at integrity with tears, not yet. It wouldn’t be fair to Akechi if he cried in front of him. Partially why he picked somewhere public – he wouldn’t let just anyone see him that way. _But you let_ _ **him**_ _see you cry tears of pleasure, didn’t you?_ Would Akechi get mad? Would he storm off? The moment stretched on for eternity, every picosecond drilling deeper and deeper in his chest until his whole body ached like a ragged wound. He glanced up, wrenching open aching eyes to make sure Akechi was even still there.

Ren almost didn’t recognize him. He had never seen Akechi with such a dark scowl, face twisted and cruel. No artifice. No television niceties, no fans to impress. When he spoke, his voice lowered by a full octave and rumbled across the air directly into Ren’s bones. “It’s because we didn’t see each other for a while, isn’t it? Because I never let you touch me?”

“Of course not!” Ren leapt in. Even if he was a little pent-up or whatever, fucking someone else like that would never be a logical course of action. “We were only dating a month, of course I didn’t expect –”

Akechi _smirked,_ his mouth twisted so violently it stole the air from Ren’s lungs and made him wince like he’d been slapped. Hell, maybe he should be. _You’d like that, wouldn’t you?_ “You think this is a noble thing to do, Ren? Confessing your more egregious sins, trying to spare me the hurt? Please. I knew from the beginning you were only in this for yourself. Every relationship you have is like that. You wouldn’t be doing favors for all those people if you didn’t have something to gain, would you?” Akechi’s words cut right to Ren’s heart, tearing through viscera and bone, and Ren sat there, stunned, helpless to stem the blood that poured freely from his soul. _This is it,_ he thought dimly, unable to stop staring even as Akechi kept going. _This is what I was chasing. This is the Dragon._

“You wanted something from me, didn’t you? Information maybe – but maybe more than that was sex, wasn’t it? And I of course withheld it intentionally. I know your type. Once you get what you want, you think you have control over me. I don’t let _anyone_ control me, Ren.” Through the haze of his shock, the words inspire a creeping familiarity. Someone had talked to him like this recently, hadn’t they? And wait, how did Akechi know about the various people he’d befriended around town? He never talked about his various connections. He heard less and less of what Akechi was saying, his thoughts spiraling with a sudden lead. “Maybe I should have just given you what you wanted. Then you could have grown bored with me the normal way and thrown me out like you were always planning to. You would have begged me for it, wouldn’t you? A chance to get under my clothes –”

_Begged me for it. Knew I lived in an attic. Drawn to me like gravity._

“You’re Black Mask, aren’t you?”

Akechi’s words died on his tongue. He froze, but instead of looking surprised, his gaze hardened even more, glittering with hatred. He didn’t deny it.

“You are, aren’t you?” Horror crested over his understanding of the world, as well as familiar rage. “You _made_ me sleep with you.”

Akechi rested his hands on the table, clenching them together so hard the leather gloves squeaked. He looked very much like he’d rather have them around Ren’s neck. _You would too, wouldn’t you?_ “I don’t believe I _made_ you do anything, Ren. You said yourself, you cheated on me.”

“Yeah, with _your_ alter ego!” Oh, Ren much preferred anger to despair. Anger, he could do something with. Even if he wasn’t entirely in the right, here, the anger still felt justified, and he wielded it like a towering shield against his own self-hatred. “Black Mask, fuck, of course you would know shit about my boyfriend if you _are_ him.”

“Oh, am I still your boyfriend, now? I thought I heard you say you were breaking up with me earlier.” Eyes hard and cutting as a diamond, Akechi’s voice trembled between them, still in that ( _sexy_ ) low tone, quiet and dangerous. _It’s pretty hot._ God, Ren wished his inner voice would seriously _shut the fuck up_ about now.

“I don’t know _anything_ anymore, because I am apparently _dating an assassin!_ ” Ren whisper-screamed, just as a waitress appeared at the tableside.

“Hi!” Her perky voice sliced right through the tension between them. But if she picked up on the atmosphere, she certainly didn’t act like it. “What can I get you boys?” Ren said… something, a word that might have been _coffee_. Akechi said nothing. She watched him for a moment, and when he didn’t even glance at her, she giggled nervously, backed away, and hurried off.

“We are not discussing this here,” Akechi warned coolly. “Follow me. But don’t be obvious about it.”

He shot up from the table and headed towards the bathroom. The same one in which Ren playfully toyed with Akechi’s hair, ruffled it up like his own and slid his glasses over Akechi’s face, snickering at the stilted annoyance at his messy appearance. Akechi had joked later that they should exchange clothes. It had been cute, and one of a dozen instances where Ren found himself falling for Akechi. For a murderer with blood on his hands.

But after a beat of silence, Ren got up and followed the familiar stranger into that same small room, with just a couple stalls and urinals, feeling helplessly, erotically out of control of the whole situation.

When Ren glanced back to close the door, Akechi slammed him up against the wood, clicking the lock closed with a deft flick of his wrist. The sudden press of Akechi against Ren’s front made his head spin, and Akechi noticed his wide-eyed expression with a scoff.

“Pathetic,” he drawled, and before Ren could even think to get back to their train of conversation, Akechi snagged Ren by the chin and forced their lips together.

 _He did say he wanted to stick his tongue down my throat,_ Ren remembered with a disproportionate calm as Akechi did just that, immediately jamming his tongue past Ren’s startled lips to insistently invade his mouth. He pressed between Ren’s gaping jaws, biting into him with an insistent challenge. With a surge of arousal, Ren wrapped his arms around Akechi’s hips (only to immediately have them pinned against the door by two gloved hands) and kissed him back.

Ren had only kissed a couple times before this, and never, _never_ with such ferocity, such aggression, with sucking and biting and growling and bodies pressed into each other, moaning and panting and gasping for air only to get nipped at for daring break away even for a second. Akechi utterly dominated his mouth, sucking on Ren’s tongue with painful force, trapping him there for several aching seconds before letting go, only to have his lips faced with the same, captured between sharp eyeteeth and _pulled_ , slow and heated.

No way this was his boyfriend. His dorky but smart celebrity boyfriend, who never swore and acted so scandalized when Ren said so much as _damn_ _,_ who wrinkled his nose just for a second when he ate sweets, who never even held his bare hand let alone deign press their lips together. Ren was utterly swept away, like he was every time with Black Mask.

Shit, and this _was_ Black Mask, wasn’t it? That meant… his first time really was with…

“Stop laughing,” Akechi snarled into his mouth, releasing one of his wrists so he could dig his fingers into the hinge of Ren’s jaw to suffocate the anxious giggles bubbling from his throat.

“You even threatened yourself? How dramatic.” Now the whole encounter seemed almost comical. Like his boyfriend was role-playing.

Akechi used his grip on Ren to smash his head back against the door, the impact rattling and rearranging his thoughts and reminding his manic brain that _Black Mask was also a killer._ Stars flashed by his eyes, and a familiar warm cotton began to nestle around his extremities.

“Stay focused,” Akechi reminded him, his voice sounding… lighter, somehow. More like the Prince character. Almost… sweet? Ren nodded eagerly. “I’m going to suck your cock. Don’t you dare touch my hair like you did last time.”

Ren just nodded again, blood rushing from his head to his dick. Akechi was so beautiful like this, going to his knees so casually and making quick work of Ren’s fly, not even bothering to pull his pants down and sliding his cock out of his boxers. Face so cold even as he licked up Ren’s length, making him groan, wetting him expertly before he swallowed his whole length, holding his hips still with firm hands on his hips. _Beautiful._ That soft brown hair swayed as his head glided up and down Ren’s cock, shimmering even in the shitty fluorescent light.

It was so unfair that Akechi told him he couldn’t touch because now that was all Ren wanted. The memory of his tresses flowing between his fingers, silky and warm from his scalp, made Ren’s hands itch to do it again. _Well…_ his caveat was “don’t touch it like last time.” Maybe if he didn’t mess it up? Or maybe he hoped Akechi would punish him for it.

Lightly, Ren rested one hand on the top of Akechi’s head, and when he didn’t immediately shake him off, he brought his other hand around, too. At first, he just let them settle there, content to feel Akechi’s head moving against him, his warm, wet mouth enveloping him, stroking him with tongue and suction and once or twice, a hint of grazing teeth. Then he threaded his fingers down locks of hair, brushing through each soft strand, closing his eyes reverently. “Akechi,” he sighed, “you feel so good…”

Akechi popped off his cock with a wet noise, smirking up at him. Ren memorized the map of his face, the tilt of his sweet red lips, the pleased flush of his cheeks, the low heat burning in his eyes. “Of course I’m good. What did you expect?”

Ren chuckled again, just a little, at the complete insanity of it all. “I suppose I’ve technically been with you a couple times before, haven’t I?” Fire flashed in Akechi’s eyes, and he bit Ren’s hip _hard._ Yelping, jerking away, Akechi certainly noticed the way his dick twitched in response.

“Technically,” he purred, licking the aching hot surface wound, “I told you not to touch me.”

Ren’s heart jumped in his throat. This is was he was after all this time, wasn’t it? The Dragon. The man in the mask. They were one in the same. Detective and murderer. Boyfriend and illicit affair. Ren was getting swept away in everything again, knew they had more to discuss, but Akechi’s next exhale shivered over the head of his cock in a pointed stream of air, shocking him to the core, and when he swallowed Ren down again he sagged against the door and focused only on Akechi’s mouth.

Slick, hot, tight heat enveloped him. Akechi hollowed his cheeks around Ren’s length, buried to the hilt where he could feel him pushing into Akechi’s throat. But unlike Ren, Akechi took him with no difficulty, muscles pulsing around him with each convulsive swallow until his eyes crossed and he fisted his hands into Akechi’s hair to steady himself. Akechi punitively swatted his wrists for his indiscretion, and even that little sting sent him.

“Akechi,” Ren groaned in ecstasy. “God damn, Akechi, you’re so–”

Footsteps behind the door. The doorknob jiggled. Ren’s words died in his mouth, and Akechi stilled.

“ _Hello? Is anyone in there?_ ” An unfamiliar voice called out, slightly muffled. Ren released Akechi’s hair and clapped his hands over his mouth, staring at his boyfriend in horror. Even worse though, Akechi looked _amused,_ then wrapped his lips around Ren’s flagging length once more.

 _Akechi!_ He mouthed furiously, terrified to make even a peep. Brown eyes rolled up to meet gray, innocently asking, _what_?

 _Stop!_ He mouthed back. The footsteps faded, and Ren heard some kind of mumbling. Something about management? _He’s getting the key?_

One shoulder rose and fell, and he didn’t pause. The pleasure of the blowjob was superseded by the fear of being caught like this, and holy hell _why didn’t Akechi care?!_

“Akechi,” he dared whisper aloud. “We can’t, we have to stop–”

“Do we?” He popped off long enough to say, then sucked him back down noisily. Ren bit his tongue to keep himself from keening.

“They’re gonna… open the door.”

“Then you better come quickly, then.”

That made Ren moan aloud, every muscle tensing as Akechi blew him even faster, sucking messily and deep, nose pressed into his belly. Pressured by the new, rapidly evaporating time limit, Ren came so hard he nearly went blind, hips twitching abortively against Akechi’s mouth. And Akechi drank him down without complaint.

He swiped a thumb under his bottom lip, smirking cockily. “Good boy,” he murmured, voice low and throaty.

The footsteps approached once more, and Ren sobbed in relief. He started to tuck himself away when Akechi snagged his wrist. “Oh, we’re not done yet.” Pulling Ren into the furthest stall from the door, he threw Ren against the toilet and clicked the door behind him.

Wait, they’re not…?

“Pull your pants down, all the way,” he ordered, low and quiet. “And bend over.”

Oh shit, oh shit, this was really happening. The rattling of the door knob as someone worked a key into it lingered in his head for a moment, but Akechi’s commanding presence drowned out everything else. He did what he was told, dropping pants and underwear around his ankles and resting his elbows on the toilet tank, knees on the lid, doubled over.

A little _snik_ of a cap opened, and Ren glanced behind him to see Akechi holding a small bottle in one hand, ripping his glove off the other hand with his teeth. _Ohhh_ that was nice, but… “What are you holding?”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you think.”

Ren exhaled slowly. “But… why?”

Smirk. “I knew we were meeting. I wanted to be prepared.”

Ren’s head swam as he felt Akechi’s lubed finger tease at his entrance. “You mean you planned… for today?”

He squeaked when the point of his index finger penetrated his hole. “Since you first asked me out, I’ve been carrying it around every time we have a date.”

Ren dropped more of his weight into his bruised elbows, panting. All this time… Akechi had been having such thoughts the whole time they’d been dating? So that time with Black Mask, _as_ Black Mask, wasn’t an impulsive decision, wasn’t spur-of-the-moment? All this time… Akechi also wanted him.

A second finger pushed against him. Ren tried to think through his haze of desire, the bubble of anxiety as he dimly heard the door open and people moving in and out of the bathroom, the hiss of water and plumbing and moving bodies. He bit the back of his wrist to muffle his voice. Clearly this was not the time for a heart-to-heart. More lube. Akechi flexed his fingers and pushed Ren open, and his throat tightened around a moan as he found his prostate so easily this time. How often would Akechi keep wrecking him like this? Crashing through his sense of decency and decorum and find the core of his desires as surely as Joker found his target’s Treasures?

Quiet noises continued while Akechi scissored his fingers in and out of Ren, forced by circumstance to be dead quiet. There’s no dirty talk this time, no electronic voice mocking him, not even any pain or punishment games. Just the sheer pleasure of feeling _Akechi,_ as himself, bare fingers stroking deep inside him, getting to see his face contort with arrogant desire every time Ren glanced over his shoulder.

At some point, Akechi unzipped and pulled out his own cock, stroking it and slicking himself as he fingered Ren. In a moment he knew they were alone, Ren whined for Akechi, doing what Akechi always said he would be good at. Begging. “Akechi, please,” his voice a threadbare whisper, “Do me, fuck me, make me yours, _please!_ ”

“Ren,” he sighed, low and warm. “I like hearing you moan my name.”

A thrill ran up Ren’s spine. In that case…

Akechi lined himself up against Ren, rutting against him to make sure he was nice and wet. “I’m ready,” Ren grunted impatiently. “Fuck me already, _Goro._ ”

He felt the jerk of Akechi’s hips at the use of his first name. “Cheeky brat,” Akechi breathed. “If you insist–” He shoved his way into Ren so hard he couldn’t stop the cry tearing from his throat, the stilted jerk of his body at the flash of pain, but Akechi’s cock stretched him so hard and so good, and knowing now it was _Akechi,_ it was his _boyfriend_ fucking him and always had been, this familiar delicious feeling was and always had been Akechi, been _Goro,_ punched a pleased whined from his chest until Goro slapped a clean, bare hand over his mouth.

“So fucking loud,” he hissed, grinding hard into Ren’s ass. “Never would have expected that from you, Ren. Always so quiet.” He pulled out and slammed back in, Ren’s cry barely quieted around Goro’s hand. “Are you so hungry for cock that you’ll take it anywhere, even in this dirty bathroom? Hunched over a toilet with your legs spread for me?”

Ren nodded shamelessly. It felt so freeing now. Even with the heat of embarrasment and fear bubbling in the back of his head from the semi-public indecency, having it be his true self, Goro, the Dragon, saying such filth to him, sung through his nerves like a heavenly choir. If Ren needed Goro so badly he’d bend over for him in a public bathroom, what did that make Goro, who ordered him to do it?

Goro set a brutal pace, slamming into him so hard and fast the wet slaps alone would be a dead giveaway what was happening. But Ren’s luck shone through for once, and no one entered the bathroom until Ren came again, untouched, over the toilet lid. Goro snarled and grabbed Ren’s hips, yanking him so hard on his cock, over and over again, until he saw stars and knew he’d have ten little fingerprint bruises by morning. With a final loud grunt, Goro unleashed into Ren, filling him with wet heat.

Like the first time, Goro… lingered in Ren, panting, holding him almost softly, stroking soothingly over the sore pressure points he’d left along Ren’s hipbones. There was so much Ren wanted to ask. So much he needed to know, now, about Goro, about Black Mask. About where to go from here, what they were to each other now. And of course, the mental shutdowns. The psychotic breakdowns. All of the unspoken crimes and pain they caused each other stretched between then, a shift of atmospheric pressure so intense Ren expected his ears to pop. Neither said a word.

Goro pulled away first, unsheathing himself with a hiss from Ren, pulling himself together and running a newly re-gloved hand through his hair. Even though Ren had tried to control his hands earlier, his hair still fluffed endearingly around his ears. Ren looked at him, too weak to stand yet, still hunched over a public toilet, meeting his eyes. Imploring. _We need to talk._

Goro met his eyes. Looked away. “Don’t follow after me too close.” He quipped, then quickly excused himself from the bathroom.

Ren took just enough time to wipe himself down with fistfuls of toilet paper, then the soiled seat, pulling his clothes back on before chasing after Goro. This was how it always was between them, wasn’t it? Even before Ren realized it. They were always chasing after each other. Two hounds circling each other, thinking the other was prey. An ouroboros of want and need, endlessly devouring each other. Ren chased after Goro, because he could do nothing else. To the ends of the earth, Ren would forever chase Goro, just like Goro would always pursue him. Hunters hunting hunters.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/thornofthelily) where I mostly retweet P5/R stuff and a [Tumblr](https://thornofthelily.tumblr.com/) where I reblog whatever I want.
> 
> Fic title is a line from a song, "Cerridwen and Taliesin" by Damh the Bard. The song has little to do with the fic, but that line stuck out to me.


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